


He's No Angel

by cindergal



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Gen, Trope Bingo Amnesty, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-18
Updated: 2013-06-18
Packaged: 2017-12-15 09:50:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/848138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cindergal/pseuds/cindergal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spike's no angel, no matter how this looks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	He's No Angel

**Author's Note:**

> Set early Season 5.

Spike tumbles through the door of the Magic Box, trailing a string of curses and a smoking blanket behind him. No one even bothers looking up from what they’re doing except Dawn.

“Hey Spike. How’s it going?”

“Not very bloody well!” he says, whipping off his blanket and throwing it to the ground.

“Did you, uh, forget your shirt?” Willow asks. 

Buffy looks up quickly. Spike. Shirtless Spike. She vaguely – vaguely! – remembers running her hands over his body during that spell Willow did last year which made her somehow want to marry him. And now there that body is, looking as hard and muscular as she remembers it feeling. 

“Dear Lord,” Giles says. 

You can say that again, Buffy thinks.

But then she realizes that Giles is not, in fact, referring to Spike’s muscles. He’s referring to Spike’s…wings.

“Spike, what the hell?” Xander says, as Spike’s wings fan out behind him gracefully.

“I sure as hell don’t know! Woke up this way!” Spike says. He points an accusing finger in Willow’s direction. “What kind of double, double, toil and trouble did you get up to this time, missy?”

“It wasn’t me!” Willow says. She looks around the table a little guiltily. “I swear to Hecate. Really.”

“Then how the sodding, bloody, buggering _hell_ did I end up this way?”

Everyone is circling Spike now, inspecting his wings. They’re quite large, sprouting from between his shoulder blades and arcing out gracefully behind him. 

“They’re kind of pretty, though,” Dawn says. “Like an angel’s wings.”

“Can you say, irony?” Xander says. “Maybe we should start calling _you_ Angel.”

“Hey!” Spike says, rounding on Xander. His wings curve up and over his back, appearing almost threatening. “Say that again and I’ll make you regret it, migraine or no migraine.”

Xander holds up his hands in mock surrender, but he can’t hold back a snicker. Spike glares at him.

“They really are quite beautiful,” Anya says. 

“Actually, they are,” Buffy says, admiring the way the silvery feathers catch the light. She can’t help herself. She reaches out a hand and strokes them, her fingers gliding through the soft, silky feathers. The wings quiver under her touch.

“Slayer. Don’t…don’t ruffle my feathers,” Spike says, his voice lower-pitched than usual.

Buffy pulls her hand back. “Sorry. Was I hurting you?”

“Uh…not exactly,” he says.

“Then what…” 

Anya catches her eye and gives her a look. 

“Oh. Oh!” She jumps away as if she was burned.

Spike crosses his arms over his chest and clears his throat. “So are you lot just going to stand about and gawk, or are you going to do something about my little predicament?”

“I’m not sure what we can do,” Giles says, “unless we can narrow down the source. I imagine there are several different possible spells that could cause your…predicament. All with different counter-spells.”

“Well what the hell good are you? Get out your dusty old books! Do some bloody research!” Spike says, waving his arms about. His wings flap out behind him.

“You have no idea who did this to you?” Anya asks.

“If I did, don’t you think I’d be out there kicking their arse, instead of in here beggin’ for help from this motley crew?”

“Good point.”

“Let’s just calm down a moment,” Giles says. “Are you sure you have no idea…”

“I just bloody said I don’t know!”

“Spike,” Anya says, “who have you pissed off lately?”

“Besides us,” Xander adds helpfully.

“How’s that going to help?” Buffy says. “There must be dozens. Hundreds, maybe.”

“Hey!” Spike says, opening his mouth to protest further. But then he clamps it shut, eyes widening. “Oh, bugger.”

“What?”

“This bloke I played poker with the other night. Shady character. Hooded cloak, glowy eyes, long, pointy fingernails.”

Xander lays his hands flat on the table and leans into Spike’s space. “You played poker with Death and didn’t think to mention it?”

“I doubt it was Death,” Giles says, “but it was probably a powerful mage. Why would he want to harm you?”

Spike shrugged and looked away, his wings drooping slightly. “No idea.”

“Spike…”

“Oh alright, I cheated! Just a little. It’s not a game if you don’t cheat a little.”

Giles shakes his head. “Of all the stupid…”

“Okay, okay. Can you help me or not?”

Giles raises his eyebrows. “And why should I?”

“Because he’ll be even more annoying than usual if you don’t?” Buffy suggests.

Giles nods reluctantly. “Good point. But remember,” he says, pointing a finger at Spike, “I will have to call in a favor or two from some powerful people in order to sort this out. Which means I will owe them. Which means _you_ will owe _me_.”

Spike nods. “Understood. Now can we get this show on the road?” He flaps his wings. “These things are itchy.”

A few hours and some very smelly spell ingredients later, Giles and Willow have managed to perform the spell that Giles’ mage friends had given him. They all watch in fascination as the wings being to glow and then disappear in a flash of nearly blinding light. Spike shrugs his shoulders experimentally and tries to reach behind him to feel his back.

“Did it leave a scar?” he asks, turning around. 

Buffy takes in the lean line of his back the broad expanse of his shoulders, and swallows hard. “Nope. No scar.”

“Maybe you should get a little closer. To really make sure,” Anya says. Buffy shoots her a dirty look.

Spike gathers up his blanket and wraps it around himself, preparing to head out into the midday sun. 

“Thanks, watcher,” he says, giving Giles a little salute. “I owe you one.”

“Thank goodness we figured out how to get rid of those wings,” Willow says.

Buffy smiles at her. “Thank goodness we figured out how to get rid of Spike.”

But as Buffy watches him leave, she can’t help but feel a little disappointed.


End file.
